


Crown of Iron and Roses

by oldmanhawke



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, i wish, lazy writer is guess what, lesbian queens, still lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanhawke/pseuds/oldmanhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little snippets of Sansa and Margaery. Margaery is a power hungry queen. Sansa is sweet and malleable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crown of Iron and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> SO this was really quick, but I'm going to post anyway. I just want more lesbian power queens. Needs polishing which may or may not happen in the next couple days. Essentially I need a beta reader, but its Fiine.

"Some girls like bald men, some short men," Margaery says as they walk through the gardens. "Some like hairy men, tall men, ugly men, pretty men, pretty girls." They halt for a moment. 

Sansa tries not to think about that last one. It brings images to mind that Sansa prefers not to dwell on. Images of the Lady Margaery's handmaidens found alone with her at odd times of the day, with dresses not quite laced correctly, and flushes down their necks. Sansa focuses back on the conversation at hand. 

Margaery is smiling at her, her perfect rose bud of a mouth twisted devilishly and a thin eyebrow arched. There is something in her eyes, a familiarity. It is a look Sansa has seen before, though never directed on her before. 

She chooses not to dwell on it now though, or what it could possibly mean. Instead, she looks down and begins walking again, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

x

Weeks later, without any intention to do so, Sansa finds out exactly what that look means. 

The Lady Sansa requests that Sansa take lunch with her. They have lunch in Margaery's chambers. As soon as the food has been served, fruits and cheese and a whole plate full of lemon tarts, Margaery sends her maids away. 

It is not long after that, that Margaery is seated next to Sansa on the chaise, so close that Sansa can smell the rose oil in her hair. 

"You have such beautiful hair, Sansa." Margaery says. "You must let me brush it." 

And Sansa accepts, for she does love to have her hair brushed, it reminds her Winterfell, and her mother, who used to comb her hair nearly every night and tell her stories of the South, and knights and maidens. 

Margaery combing her hair is an entirely different experience. Her mother's hands were always quick and focused, unlike Lady Margaery's, whose linger and dwell, stroking the strands at their leisure and getting distracted by her neck. Her mother certainly never leant so close nor bent down to press a kiss behind her ear. 

Margaery is entirely different, and soon she pushes all thoughts of the Lady Stark from Sansa's mind. 

The end of lunch finds Sansa blushing, and quivering. Margaery pulls her fingers from between Sansa's legs and rearranges her skirts back over her legs. She laughs and kisses Sansa briefly on the cheek before sending the confused girl from her room.

"Goodbye sweetling. I will see you tomorrow."

x

It continues on that way. Every few days, Sansa will receive an invitation to spend time with Lady Margaery. 

With each meeting, Sansa finds herself quaking with pleasure, at the mercy of Margaery's graceful fingers, or at times, her mouth. With each meeting Sansa learns a little bit more, finds herself actively seeking Margaery's company. 

x

After the first couple trysts, as Sansa comes to think of them as, Lady Margaery teaches Sansa a new lesson. This time, it is Sansa who find herself between Margaery's legs. 

Margaery takes it slowly and coaxes her through it, showing Sansa where to press and where to stroke. She encourages her all the while with breathy moans, murmurs of "Yes, sweetling." and "Oh, Sansa, you are doing so wonderful." 

She comes apart under Sansa's ministrations and it is the first time in a long time in which Sansa feels truly powerful. She has brought the Lady Margaery pleasure, has made her a quivering, shaking mess. She has had the Lady Margaery, the future queen, at her mercy. 

When Margaery bids her goodbye with another lingering kiss on the cheek, Sansa smiles and walks with her head a little higher on the way back to her chambers. 

x

Margaery often introduces Sansa to new ways to find her pleasure. On one such occasion, she slides a thigh through Sansa's on the bed, and pull them so they are pressed together, clit to clit and cunt to cunt. She moves her hips against Sansa's and Sansa gasps at the sensation of silky skin on silky skin, sliding wetly. 

Margaery continues to move, eliciting moans and gasps from Sansa, making her breath hitch as she chokes out Margaery's name. 

And then suddenly, she stops pulling her hips back from Sansa, so they barely brush. Sansa bucks and squirms, but it is not nearly enough and she desperate for friction. Margaery stills Sansa's hip and pulls her hips back farther. "Say it." She demands. 

"Say what?" Sansa asks, trying to move her hips forward. 

Margaery's hands tighten, as if to prove a point. "My title." 

"Your what?" Sansa's eyebrows knit together, her mind distracted by her center, crying out for attention.

"Come, Sansa. Just think. Say it and I will give you what you seek." 

Sansa breathes heavily and shifts about. "Lady Margaery?" 

Margaery moves her hips just slightly, enough to remind Sansa of her promised reward. "Close. Try again Sansa." 

Sansa tries to think, but the resumed movement of Margaery's hips has distracted her. 

"Think, Sansa. What is my real title."

"I.." Sansa bites her bottom lip and arches her back. "Queen." She whispers. 

Margaery smirks. "Very good, sweetling." She crushes her pelvis to Sansa's and Sansa cries out with relief, collapsing back on the pillows. "Say it again." She insists, moving her hips ever faster. 

"Queen." Sansa gasps. "Queen Margaery."

"Again." 

"Queen Margaery! Oh, Margaery, please."

Sansa comes at the insistence of her queen, and Margaery follows her, drunk off the power trip and sight of Sansa, her sweet little wolf. 

x

Margaery has a fantasy, of sitting the throne. She wants to rest on the Iron Throne with a crown on her brow and her sweet little direwolf at her side. She wants to place Sansa on the throne, and lave at her sweet cunt until she comes from Margaery's mouth alone. And she wants to crown her, with a circlet of flowers and iron, and rule over the seven kingdoms with her wolf at her side.

x

Margaery's wedding night ends with the death of her husband. 

She shares a look with Sansa over the corpse of the damned dead King and feels the power course through her. She sees a similar look in Sansa's eyes. 

Mayhaps her dream can come true, after all she is now the Queen, the throne is hers. She already has her crown, all that is left is to order another for her wolf, and a circlet of iron is easily fashioned.


End file.
